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Thursday, December 8, 2011

SHIFTERS 'R' US (5)

Terry was rereading Rémy’s notebook journal, taking notes as he went
along, when Alfie returned home from picking up their supper. He looked up when
his partner set a Styrofoam tray in front of him. “We have to find this kid
before someone else does,” he stated firmly.

“So you think there’s something behind his claims?” Alfie pulled up a
chair next to the desk.

“Rémy had a very logical, organized mind. Despite his parent’s claims
that he was out of control, his writing here is detailed and he backs up his
feelings with as many facts as he could find or remember.”

“If he’s not just imagining it all, trying to find a reason he can
accept to make sense of his brother’s death."

“A possibility of course, but I don’t think that’s the case.”

“Why?” Alfie moved his chair closer so he could read Terry’s notes.

Terry laughed, sliding them over to him. “You could have just asked for
them.”

“I know, but I like being this close to you,” Alfie purred in reply.

“Any closer and you’d be in my lap.”

“I know, that was the next step.” Alfie grinned wickedly.

“Behave, cat. We have work to do.”

“Dogs are so…rigid.” Shaking his head in disgust, Alfie picked up
Terry’s notes and headed to the sofa, flopping down to read them with a glance
at his lover from under lowered lashes.

Terry chuckled, refraining from saying anything about the ‘rigid’
comment. He knew Alfie well enough to get that he was trying to tease him into
some sort of response that would escalate into the truly risqué and from there
into bed.

“All right,” Alfie said fifteen minutes later. “I see why you’re so
concerned about his safety. I wonder if he ran because someone threatened him,
not because he was pissed at his parents."

“I wondered that too. He might have precipitated the final fight to give
a logical excuse for his leaving. It would also explain why none of his friends
seem to know where he’s gone to.”

Alfie nodded. “’Seem to’ being the operative words there. I’d be willing
to bet at least one or two of them have some sort of idea. We just have to find
out which ones. And hell, we never got a list of names from Reynard or his
wife. We’re slipping.”

“Easy enough to fix,” Terry replied, opening his cell. Moments later he
was talking to Mr. Reynard. He explained what he needed and soon was jotting
down names and a few addresses on a pad of paper. He thanked the man and hung
up, telling Alfie, “We can start on this first thing in the morning.”